A night in stop motion, through a peephole

by CJ

Justin on the bed, shirt off, jeans fastened tight over hard cock.

He watches something at the end of his bed with a smile on his face, wiggling his bare toes at it. He leans back on his elbows, hips forward, and his jeans bulge lewdly

Nick on the bed, on hands and knees, boxer briefs straining over flesh.

Justin snags a finger in the tight cotton and pulls him close, closer, overtop and then flat against. They kiss like it's forbidden.

Justin's jeans unfastened, flaps open wide, blue silk exposed.

Nick's hand disappears beneath the denim as he kneels on the bed next to Justin's body. Silk is shoved down and Justin is drawn out, stroked, worshipped. Nick kisses him again, and not his lips.

Nick on top, spread like a blanket.

They move together, up and down like a chest heaves with each breath. Justin's arms stretch above his head and Nick pins them to the bed, his hands curling around Justin's wrists so tight his knuckles go white.

Justin's jeans vanished, blue silk vanished, ass untouched by the sun bared.

Nick's tongue strays up Justin's spine as he stretches out, unfurls his long body. They're both tall and solid and fit together. Knees bent, they spoon comfortably when Nick's tongue reaches the nape of Justin's neck.

Nick between Justin's legs, knees tucked up, body bent forward.

Justin's legs are spread wide, feet flat against the mattress, his head tilted back into a soft feather pillow. Nick's head is buried between them, doing things that make Justin suck in harsh breaths and let out keening pleas. Nick kicks his boxer briefs to the floor.

Justin on his stomach, pillow beneath hips, cheek pressed to the sheets.

Nick's face is buried between those legs again, tongue flicking out to touch something on the other side of Justin's hard thigh. Justin's eyes are closed, and he breathes hard and even in surrender.

Nick inside, back arched, hands curling around Justin's ribs.

Their breaths don't match, first Justin, then Nick, then Justin again, sucking in air like there's never enough. Nick moves in, out, body like a wave roiling up and back again, up and back again against the shore of Justin.

Justin fisting the sheets, white-knuckled, panting.

Nick is inside so far his hipbones dent the flesh of Justin's ass, and his hands tug and tug like he needs to be further, deeper, harder. Justin's hips buck up and he's spilling onto the pillow, and he falls silent as though in awe of what his body's done.

Nick stretched out flat over Justin, arm to arm, chest to back, leg to leg.

They're breathing in unison, their bodies rippling together as muscle after muscle relaxes into the bed, into each other. Nick whispers in Justin's ear and Justin laughs in return, letting out a sigh of relief and delight.

Justin turning out the light.

For Georgina. August 23, 2003

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